


Playtime

by Khylara



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Peterick, Post-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: Patrick is away. He decides to call Pete and have a little fun.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Playtime

Pete was just coming in the door from a play date with Bronx when his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and clicked on it without looking at who was calling. "This is Pete."

"I miss you."

Pete smiled. "I miss you, too, baby," he said. Patrick was in New York producing an up and coming band's first album. He had already been gone four days and Pete was missing him sorely. "How are things there?"

Patrick sighed. "I just got back," he said, sounding disgruntled. "The band put me up in some dive hotel near the studio and I'm trying not to take it personally." 

Pete's eyebrows went up. "Is it that bad?"

"We wouldn't have stayed in a place like this when we were first starting out, much less now," Patrick informed him. "First thing tomorrow I'm moving to the Waldorf-Astoria's Presidential Suite, and they're footing the goddamned bill." Another sigh sounded over the phone. "I hate this."

"I hate it, too, baby," Pete said as he sat down on the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table after kicking off hs shoes. ""I've gotten too used to sleeping next to you."

"Yeah...well...I definitely miss your cold feet," Patrick said as he laid down on the bed. "And Hemmingway barking at everyone who comes to the door."

"He misses you, too. You're the only one who gives him dog buscuits," Pete said, smiling broadly. "Any idea when you're coming home?"

"I'm going to shoot for the end of the week. Everything should be cleared up by then with all this." Patrick ran a hand through his hair. "I really wish you were here."

"So do I, baby." Pete licked his lips. "I can think of at least a dozen different things I'd do to you right now."

"So can I." Patrick was silent for a moment. "Tell me?"

Pete grinned. "You miss me that much?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.

"More," was the truthful reply. "Just talk to me for awhile? Please?"

Pete didn't hesitate. "Where are you? Are you comfortable?"

"i'm in my room, on the bed," Patrick replied, his phone pressed against his ear. "What else did you want to know?"

Pete crossed his ankles as he leaned back against the cushions. "Tell me whay you're wearing."

"Denim button down shirt, black jeans, black socks, my glases," Patrick said as he did the same. "Why?"

"You forgot something important," pete reminded him. "Your underwear?"

Patrick flushed. "Just plain white ones, like I always wear," he said. "You know I'm not as flamboyant as you."

"I beg to differ," Pete said, still smiling. He closed his eyes. "I can see you."

"What about you?" Patrick asked. "What do you have on?"

"Mettalica t-shirt, black jeans, black socks." He paused. "Can you see me?"

"Yes," Patrick replied. "And what about your um...your underwear?"

Pete's eyes were bright. "I'm not wearing any," he said, delighted by the strangled groan he heard on the other end of the line. "You like?"

"Very much," Patrick replied truthfully. "Fucking perfect."

"Yes, you are," Pete said. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll do anything."

"just...just talk to me?" patrick asked. "Tell me what you would do to me if I was there with you."

 _Oh, so that's it,_ Pete thought, his own arousal coming to a head. "Well...I'd start by giving you a tongue-tangling kiss that you felt all the way to your toes," he began. "Then I'd move down your chest to tease your nipples erect with my lips. I'd make them nice and hard and wet for me. So pink and juicy."

Patrick unzipped his pants and reached in to take out his rock hard cock. "What else?" he begged. "Tell me."

"Then I'd kiss my way down your belly to your cock." Pete undid his own pants. "I'd wrap my hand around us both before taking it deep down my throat and licking every inch."

"Oh, God," Patrick said as he stroked himself. "Pete...please..."

"But you don't want that," Pete said. "You don't want to come in my mouth. So you lie down and pull me down on top of you, begging me with your eyes to fuck you." Pete fisted his own cock, fueled by the moans he could hear coming from his lover. "Are you touching yourself, baby?"

"Yes," was the breathless reply. "Pretending..I'm pretending it's you...instead of me...doing this." he let out another low moan. "Your hand...it feels so good stroking me...please...make me come, Pete...please..."

"Yes," Pete said, his hand moving faster. "So I get between your legs and I push into you, so slow. You're so hot and ready for me...fucking amazing." He let out a moan of his own, on the heels of his own orgasm. He held back with gritted teeth; he wanted Patrick to come with him. "Love you...love you so much, baby..."

"Love you...Pete!" Patrick cried out as he came all over his fingers. Pete came a moment later, Patrick's name a whisper on his lips as he climaxed all over his own hand.

He closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Patrick?" he asked when he could talk again. "Can you hear me? Are you still there?"

"Yeah." There was a sniffle at the other end. "Yeah...I'm here."

An alarmed look crossed Pete's face. "Baby, no. Please...please don't cry. Not when I'm not there to hold you." He sat up. "Please..it's okay."

"I'm okay," Patrick said, swiping at his eyes. "It's just...I really fucking miss you."

"Do you want me to fly out?" Pete asked next. "Give me an hour. I can be on the next plane."

Patrick hesitated. "No, you can't," he finally said. "Who will watch Hemmingway? You and I both know he can't be left alone and your dog sitter is on vacation." He let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'll be home by the end of the week. I'll make damn sure of it." 

"Okay. Your call." Pete wiped his hands on a tissur before tucking himself back into his pants. "Lie down and get some sleep. okay? I know you. I can almost bet you've been up all night and in the studio since you got there."

"Not all the time," Patrick denied. "You get some sleep, too. You're going to need it when you pick me up from the airport."

"Will do. call me back when you know your flight info," Pete instructed. His tone softened. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Good night, love." Waiting for the click from Pete's phone, Patrick tossed his aside and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.


End file.
